Monica Murphy: Savor

I never wanted to be like him, not like that.

Ever.

“So everyone’s gossiping about me and my potential love life,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Well, yeah and so are we because we’re concerned, man. You’re working too hard. You need to relax and live a little. You’ve always been a little intense when it comes to your career,” Archer says.

I study Archer, see the worry filling his eyes. Yeah, we all give each other shit, but he’s being serious. He’s concerned for my welfare and I appreciate that.

“The minute this reopening party is done, I’m going to tone it down,” I vow, feeling like I’m making some sort of solemn promise. “You’re right. I can’t continue to work at this pace; it’ll drive me into an early grave.”

“Hell yeah, it will. You gotta find balance,” says the second biggest workaholic I know, Gage.

Balance. I really have no idea what it is or how to get it.

“And you gotta get laid,” Archer adds with a chuckle. “We gotta find you a woman. I’m sure Ivy has some single friends.”

“So does Marina. She knows everyone,” Gage says.

Now they want to set me up. Great. “I can find my own woman, thank you very much.”

“Really? Because you’re doing a pretty piss-poor job of it at the moment.” Gage laughs and Archer joins in.

“Like I have time,” I mutter. Realization hits, and I decide to go in for the kill. “And hey, maybe I’m waiting because I’m in need of my payment.”

“Payment?” They both echo, like it was rehearsed.

I want to knock them both upside their heads.

“Yeah, that little bet we made months ago? I’m here to collect,” I say, my voice smug. “So pay up.”

“We don’t owe you shit,” Archer mutters.

“Who’s the last man standing, hmm? I want my million dollars.” I could funnel it right back into the business. Hell, I’d probably give these two bastards a share of the profits from what I’d reinvest. I’m fair like that. I take care of my friends.

“There is no way I’m paying you. That was a bullshit bet,” Gage protests.

“You’re only saying it’s bullshit because you lost.” I drain my beer and set the empty bottle on the table with a loud thunk . “I expect payment within seven days.”

“Oh, listen to you, all formal and shit. How about we make this a little more interesting.” Archer leans back in his chair, a gleam in his eye.

Anticipation rolls through my brain, hums through my blood. “I’m open. What are you talking about?”

“Give us sixty days. If you’re still single within that time period, we’ll pay you fair and square,” Archer says.

“But—” Gage starts but Archer silences him with a look.

“Sixty days? How about thirty?” I laugh. “I won’t be with any woman in thirty days, especially in a relationship with one.”

“Thirty? That’s too short. None of us expect you to be in a relationship in thirty freaking days,” Archer says. “Make it forty-five.”

“Forty-five?” Gage asks. He sounds horrified. “I still think that’s too short. How about ninety? That’s more reasonable.”

“We never said this bet was reasonable,” I reply calmly. Freaking cheapskate Gage. “Forty-five days or you pay up now. It’s your choice.” I know I won’t be in any sort of relationship in that amount of time. Give me a break.

“I want to add a stipulation.” Archer grins. “No sex either. So no relationship, no sex, no one night stands, nothing for you, Matt, for the next forty-five days. You withstand it, you’ll get your million bucks . . . plus another two-hundred fifty thousand to make it interesting.”

“No freaking way,” Gage says.

“Yes—way, jackass. We’re doing it,” Archer says, not even letting him argue.

“Fine. Deal,” I say firmly. I’ve gone this long without sex, what’s another forty-five days? I can handle it.

“God, you disappoint me. You’re so confident. I’d think you’d at least want to get some on occasion, you know?” Gage shakes his head, but I ignore him.

“I’m agreeing to this,” I say. “I’m sure you two losers need the time anyway to gather up the funds to pay me so I get it. I can be a patient guy. No problem. But in forty-five days, I want my money. No excuses, no bullshit. Six hundred and twenty-five thousand each.”

“Then we have a deal,” Archer says, a sly grin on his face. The asshole is up to something, I can tell.

And I don’t like it.

“Whatever. Deal,” Gage says much more reluctantly. The guy hates nothing more than wasting money, and I’m sure he views this payout as the ultimate waste.

“So I hear Ivy’s taken your assistant out for lunch and shopping today,” Archer says, his voice casual. Too casual. “What gives?”

“Really?” Curiosity fills me. I knew Ivy had taken a liking to Bryn and Bryn felt the same. But I didn’t realize they’d become that close.

“Yep.” Archer nods. “I heard something mentioned about a makeover.”

“Marina went with them too,” Gage confirms.

Shit. Now I’m really starting to sweat. Bad enough I’m attracted to Bryn despite her boring clothes and uninspired appearance. It was her damn scent. God, she smelled fucking fabulous. Sweet and fruity yet floral and with this hint of spice that I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Yeah, Ivy sent me a picture as a matter of fact. Couldn’t quite figure out why she’d do that since, you know, I’m not interested in any other woman but her.” Archer shrugs then grabs for his phone. “Then she texted that I needed to show you.”

He hands over his phone, and I look at the screen, my mouth going dry. It was a picture of Bryn in a chair at a salon, wearing a close-lipped smile, her almost-black hair cascading around her face, down past her shoulders in luxurious waves.

“Whatcha think?” Archer asks before he bursts into smug laughter.

Damn. I’m in huge trouble.

Matt

I CAME INTO work early Monday morning, so I could walk the fields and inspect the vineyards alone before anyone else got there, my new absolute favorite thing to do. I’m not a sit-in-the-office kind of guy. A nine-to-five job holds absolutely no appeal. When I bought the winery, I didn’t know shit about wine besides the fact that I liked some, but I definitely wasn’t a connoisseur. More like an I’ll-drink-some-wine-if-you-have-nothing-else type of guy.

I preferred beer.

But I’ve since learned there’s a science to wine making. It’s a formula, with a bit of luck thrown in for good measure. The grapes have to be just so. The weather has to be a certain way to insure that.

A variety of factors play into it. Some we have complete and total control over and others . . .

We’re at the whim of their command, which drives those scientist brains absolutely crazy.

There’s more to my spending time out in the fields this particular morning. And it all has to do with a particular woman. I’m avoiding the office because Bryn will arrive soon, and I don’t want to see her. That picture Archer showed me haunted my thoughts the rest of the day. Hell, the rest of the weekend. All that hair—I could only imagine slipping my fingers through it. Wrapping those long, silky strands around my fist and giving it a tug. Pulling her in so I could kiss her. Burying my face into the soft mass and inhaling her delicious scent.

She had on a red T-shirt in the picture, that mysterious little close-lipped smile and makeup on her face. I could tell because for the first time ever, I really noticed her eyes. They were crystal blue like a perfect summer sky.

Needless to say, after thinking about Bryn a little too much, I took a shower and jerked off. This new addition to the bet with Archer and Gage is going to kill me. I couldn’t even run out and find some anonymous chick and fuck her. I could lie, I guess. Keep it from them.